


A Force That's Powerful and Strange

by trashprinxe



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Death, Drama, Family, Frozen AU, Gen, Multi, Norse Bro Feels, lots of mama!Frigga, seriously BrOdinson feels like woah, with some Disney cheese for good measure
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-15
Updated: 2014-11-29
Packaged: 2018-01-04 17:21:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1083646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashprinxe/pseuds/trashprinxe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"We’re not sayin' you can change him, ‘cause people don’t really change. We’re only saying that love's a force that's powerful and strange."</i>
</p><p>When young Loki's ice powers begin manifesting, he has to be kept away from others and learn to control his emotions. That proves impossible when tragedy strikes. With Asgard now in an eternal winter, Thor must journey to Jotunheim to bring his brother back. Together, they will have to discover a force powerful enough to stop Loki's storm before it's too late. But if fear is not the key to control, then what is?</p><p>  <sub>(Frozen AU. Basically the plot of Thor meshed with the plot of Frozen, with a bit of The Dark World thrown in).</sub></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Do You Want to Build a Snowman?

**Author's Note:**

> So after I saw Frozen I couldn't stop listening to the soundtrack, and I couldn't get Thor and Loki out of my head. I started joking with a couple friends about what it would be like if they were in a similar situation, and then the ideas grew to the point where I had to write them down, and then this AU happened. Hopefully you will enjoy the outcome as much as I've enjoyed thinking about and writing it.

Loki sat curled up against a pillar, out of sight of anybody who might be passing in the hall. He was very fond of finding new hiding places; it always helped for him to have an escape route when he played one of his tricks, or when one of the bigger kids had it out for him. Using his magic to make a quick exit was one of the many things he had learned from his mother. He had a book open in his lap, but was not reading it, his attention had been captured by the view through the window beside him. He stared off into the distance, a pensive frown pulling down the features of his youthful face.

The loud clatter of feet pulled him from his reverie, voices not bothering to keep themselves down. He peered around the pillar and saw his older brother, Thor, and his friends making their noisy way down the hall, all of them sporting large smiles and laughing at whatever joke Odin’s golden child had undoubtedly just made. Leaving his book behind, Loki slid from behind the pillar and chased after them.

“Where are you guys going?” Being rather smaller and slightly younger than the others, Loki had to struggle to keep up.

Sif tossed her hair back as she looked over her shoulder with the haughty glare that she seemed to reserve especially for him. “We’re going to train. You probably wouldn’t be interested.”

“Yeah, no offense Loki,” Fandral offered, his tone only slightly kinder than Sif’s, “but you won’t be able to keep up.”

Loki’s small hands balled into fists as his frowned deepened. “What makes you think that?”

Thor’s eyes darted between Loki and his friends. “Look, Loki,” he finally said, “you’re just not ready yet. And if you get hurt, I’ll get in trouble…”

“I won’t get hurt!” Loki pouted indignantly. “I’ve been practicing with Mother.”

“Magic is cheating!” Volstagg protested, “It doesn’t count!”

“It is not cheating!” Loki’s voice was raising. Ice crystals were beginning to form around his fists.

Sif’s eyes widened as the boys, aside from Thor, backed away. “How are you doing that?”

Loki ignored her and focused his attention on his brother. “Let me come with you, please!”

“I just don’t think it’s a good idea…”

“You’re always leaving me out of things!” Loki stomped his foot in protest, and the motion sent out a circle of ice across the floor around him, cracking and sending small stalagmites shooting up. The others stumbled back, slipping and sliding until they found their footing, and then stood, staring at him.

“You freak!” Hogun finally managed to spit out.

Loki stared around himself in horror. This was not the first time that he had created ice unintentionally, but it had never happened so randomly and violently before. He took careful steps backwards, unable to tear his eyes away from what he’d done. When his feet found the familiar stone of the floor he bolted back in the opposite direction.

“Loki, wait!” Thor’s voice called after him, but it was too late. Loki was already gone.

 

* * *

 

Later that night, Thor stood outside the doors of his younger brother’s chambers. He hadn’t seen Loki since the ice incident in the hall, when he’d run off before Thor had a chance to calm him down. He clenched his hands into fists and took a deep breath, then relaxed and knocked on the door.

“Loki?”

No answer. He knocked again, harder.

“Come on, Loki, it’s me. Why are you hiding?”

Finally, a small, muffled voice answered, “I’m in trouble, aren’t I?”

“What?” Thor pressed his ear against the door. “No, you’re not in trouble! Why would you be in trouble?”

“If you told Mother or Father--”

“I didn’t tell them! Why would I tell them? You didn’t do anything wrong,” Thor laughed. “Loki, you’re being ridiculous. Let me in.”

After a moment of silence there was a _click_ of the lock sliding out of place, then the door opened and Thor’s jaw dropped.

“Woah…”

Nearly everything in the room was covered in a thin layer of frost. It created intricate patterns on the mirrors and windows, it clung to the now-rigid curtains and bedspread, it caused the rugs to crunch beneath his feet as he entered. Loki retreated against the wall, ashamed, as Thor looked around the place in awe.

“I was still mad when I got here…” Loki started.

“It’s _incredible_ ,” Thor said.

Loki perked up. “It is?”

“Yes!” Thor ran a finger across the desk, leaving patterns in the light snow. “How’d you do it?”

“I don’t know…” Loki said, honestly. He held up his hands, which earlier had been tinted blue. Now the color had begun to fade, but still clung to the tips of his fingers. “It just happens.” He stared at his hands for a while longer before clutching them to his chest, as though the warmth of his body would erase the foreign chill. His voice was little more than a whisper when he confessed, “It scares me…”

Thor turned to face his younger brother, cowering by the wall in the face of powers he could not understand. Thor frowned slightly and approached him.

“Loki…” he started, “it doesn’t have to be scary. I bet your powers could be really fun!”

“You think so?”

“Yeah!” Thor looked around the room again, grinning from ear to ear, already concocting crazy plans for the potential adventures they could have. Loki felt that slight warmth that he always got from making his brother smile. Thor finally returned his gaze to him, eyes bright. “Do you want to build a snowman?”

 

* * *

 

“Sh… be quiet…!” Thor warned in a low voice.

“I am being quiet!” Loki whispered back harshly, but corrected his footing so that his steps were lighter. They crept down the flight of stairs that would lead them to a courtyard balcony, one of their favorite places in the palace. For weeks now they had been sneaking out to play there, always in the middle of the night when no one was around to see and spoil their fun. By the time anybody else was up the sun would have already melted the ice away from the balcony.

“Okay, okay,” Thor ran ahead of Loki, onto the golden floor of the courtyard, then spun around to face his brother with eyes alight with excitement. “Do it! Just like we practiced!”

Loki grinned widely, then closed his eyes to center himself and took a deep breath. When he breathed out again frost came with the air, crystals swirling before him in a well-choreographed dance. He stomped a foot down and ice flowed from the spot, not harsh and dangerous like what he used to produce, but smooth and slick. Thor laughed with glee as he tried to find his footing, and succeeded.

“Make the snowman!” Thor cried.

Loki breathed out again, twisting his hands in a swirling pattern as snow materialized before him. When he was finished, he was left with a tall, forboding snowman that looked suspiciously like Odin.

Thor could hardly breathe for laughing. “Wait, wait,” he panted, skating across the floor towards the snow figure. “Here,” he said, placing the small golden plate they’d brought to use as a puck over one of its eyes. “Now it looks just like Father.”

A laugh burst out of Loki as well, light and airy, but it quickly trailed away. “If he knew about this we’d be in so much trouble.”

“You worry too much,” Thor mocked, pushing Loki with his shoulder. Loki slid back a few feet and almost lost his balance, but regained it just in time. His eyes narrowed as a mischievous smile split his face. The moment something else caught Thor’s attention, he skated up behind him and shoved him back. The older boy slipped and fell straight on his backside, then shook his head to orient himself. He couldn’t help the competitive smirk that overtook his features. “Oh, you want to play, brother? Then the game is on.”

It was a constant back and forth, a slipping and sliding game of tag as they raced in circles over the slick floor. Thor had just tripped Loki in a particularly unfair move, and the moment his back was turned Loki attempted to return the favor, kicking out at Thor’s feet. It was harder than he’d intended and Thor lost footing, slipping backwards from the force toward the edge of the balcony. They’d strayed too close. Loki watched in horror as Thor tried to regain his footing only to slide back further, gaining momentum. Loki’s voice was a strangled cry. He reached out a hand just in time to grab his arm but instead slid with him. The moment that Thor thought he could get back on his feet was the moment he went over the edge; Loki grabbed a post of the railing before he, too went over, and their yells of fright harmonized with each other. Loki shut his eyes tight, his arms protesting from his brother’s weight, all of his will power focused on not falling. He forced his eyes open a crack, steeling himself to look down, and he saw Thor hanging there, eyes wide with fright, his courageous facade for once abandoned. Tears froze on Loki’s face as he tried to pull his brother up but he was heavy-- too heavy-- and he was slipping…

“Help!” Loki screamed, the sound ripping from his small body. “Somebody help us! Please! _HELP!_ ”

Odin had sensed that something was amiss before he heard his son’s screams and was already heading towards the source of the sound, his wife close behind, when they started. They burst onto the balcony, nearly losing their footing on the frozen ground. Odin’s good eye was wide as he took in the scene.

“Loki, _what have you done?_ ”

The child could not work through his tears to formulate an answer, but the Allfather did not wait for one; in moments he was at the edge of the balcony and lifting Thor back to safety with ease. Loki scurried back, horrified with what he’d done. He’d almost killed his brother. If Thor had fallen from the balcony that would have been it. And it would have been entirely Loki’s fault.

“I… I’m sorry…” was all he could manage to squeeze through his vocal chords. “I’m sorry…”

“Frigga... please take care of this,” was Odin’s only answer as he carried Thor from the balcony without a glance at his other son. Frigga knelt beside the hysterical boy. He looked up at her with wide eyes full of fear.

“It was an accident…”

“I know, darling,” Frigga answered, offering her arms to her son. Loki collapsed against her, and she held him tightly. “This will never happen again.” To Loki, it sounded like a threat, but as far as she was concerned it was a vow to keep her boys safe.

 

* * *

 

Months passed, and Thor had hardly seen Loki once. He had been punished as well, after assuring their father multiple times that the ice-skating had been his idea in the first place. But he couldn’t understand why his younger brother was avoiding him. Surely Loki knew that it hadn’t been his fault? And, regardless, Thor was fine, so what did it matter?

What he didn’t know was that Loki was terrified. Constantly. The more afraid he got, the more he realized that he could not control his powers. He trained with his mother every day to use Asgardian magic, to ignore his base impulses that would shoot ice from his fingertips without him thinking about it. And no matter how he tried, he could not get her to tell him why he was this way. Why this was happening to him. She had his same aptitude for magic, but never had she shown an affinity for ice. She told him that he was special, that he had a gift if he could only learn to control it, but the night that Thor had almost died was the last time he’d been able to. Since then it had been sporadic, unpredictable. And so he had locked himself away, avoiding any and everyone, fearing for their safety.

Months turned to years as the separation drifted Loki and Thor further apart. It wasn’t for lack of trying. As often as possible, Thor would take the same paths Loki had been known to habit, even straying into the library in the hopes of spending even a little time with the brother he had once been so close to, but he was never able to catch him. Every once in a while he would even swallow his pride and go to Loki’s chambers, just as he had done on that night so long ago, and knock on the door.

“Loki?”

No answer. He would knock again, harder.

“Come on, Loki, it’s me. Why are you hiding?”

He would get frustrated.

“Are you angry with me? What did I ever do?”

There was never any response. Once, he grew desperate. He leaned in close to the door, sure that nobody was listening, and tried to coax his brother out of hiding with the only thing that used to work.

“There’s no one around to see… Don’t you want to build a snowman?”

Finally, a response. A small, sad voice.

“Go away, Thor.”

An angry frown, almost a pout, twisted Thor’s mouth. He punched the door.

“Fine.”

On the other side of the door, Loki slumped down to a sitting position, folding in on himself, watching the frost coat his blue-tinged fingers. The tears that slid down his cheeks were ice before they hit the floor.

Sif waited with Volstagg, Fandral, and Hogun outside of the gates. She was wary of the stormclouds brewing in Thor’s eyes when he finally joined them.

“Is your brother not coming?” she asked. When he didn’t answer, she prompted him. “I know we have not always been as kind to him, but he is your brother. We would welcome him. Why doesn’t he come?”

Thor squared his shoulders, and answered, “I wish I knew.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned for the next chapter, "Conceal, Don't Feel." I will try to update every week or so!


	2. Conceal, Don't Feel

The entire courtyard balcony was encased in rigid, jagged ice. The sun, just beginning to rise, barely shone through the winter’s veil of clouds, but it was enough to throw light fractals in every direction. It was a gorgeous display, but nobody had any idea how it had gotten there. It had been snowing steadily, no more or less than expected for Asgard’s winter. There had been no sudden freeze, no ice storm, no explanation for the strange phenomenon. Members of the guard and palace staff stood around, exchanging confused glances.

Loki stood alone before his father in the throne room, without even his mother there to act as a buffer. His posture was as proper as he could manage, hands clasped behind his back, chin high, trying to keep the smirk off of his face.

“You think this is funny, do you?” Odin barked at him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Father,” Loki replied in his most innocent voice.

“That dangerous installment did not just burst forth into existence on its own! How many times do I have to warn you of what would happen if the citizens knew...”

Loki didn’t give him a chance to finish. “Nobody could know,” he stated, defensively, “it’s the middle of winter! Ice is perfectly normal…”

“Not like that, Loki, and you know it. What was going through your mind?” The Allfather’s rage was palpable.

Loki flinched, and images came rushing back to him. All of the rage that he, himself, could not contain, all of the frustration at having to restrain himself. The night before, standing in the place that started it all. He thought that if he, perhaps, could confront it, then the memories and fear would stop haunting him. Instead he found himself spiraling out of control as he always did, too weak to reign himself in. His despair had manifested itself into the vicious crystalline structure that by the morning had decorated the courtyard.

“Nothing,” he finally answered, “I just…”

“You have to learn to control yourself. This is not a game anymore, Loki. There is much at risk here, much that you do not understand, and there is no more room for excuses. I will not tolerate another incident like this, do you understand me?”

There was so much that Loki wanted to say as the crystals began forming around the fists that he hid behind his back. He wanted to spew Odin’s self-righteous anger right back at him, he wanted to demand answers, wanted to ask _why_ he was not being told everything if it was so _important_! It had everything to do with him, so did he not have a right to know? Instead he decided to show his father just how composed he could be. He wiped his face free of any expression, rooted his stance, and met the king’s good eye directly.

“Yes, Father.”

Odin measured the response and his mouth fell into a grim line. “Good. Now go.”

Frigga was waiting for Loki just outside the hall to escort him back to his room. She was not altogether surprised to see him with such a hard, stoic facade in place, but her heart felt just a bit heavier at the sight. She sighed and touched his shoulder lightly, prompting him in the right direction. They walked in silence. When at last they were in the hall that would lead Loki back to his room she let him continue on his own. She returned to the throne room, where she and her husband would discuss what was to be done.

Thor sprinted through the halls, hoping he wouldn’t run into any guards that would make him slow down, eyes scanning the empty rooms that he passed. He paused at the top of a stairway when the sound of footsteps caused his head to spin around. He had been heading back from the courtyard to try and find some answers, hoping to run into Loki, even though he had admitted to himself that there was a slim chance. But there he was!

“Hey!” he called, running to catch up with him. “Wait up!”

At the sound of his voice Loki turned, and his gaze was so cold that Thor actually faltered. Loki picked up his pace. But Thor would not be defeated so easily.

“That was you, wasn’t it!” Thor felt the triumph flare up within him when Loki stopped dead in his tracks. “I knew it! What in the name of Valhalla did you _do_?”

“It is not your concern, _brother_.” Thor was stunned by the amount of malice behind the last word. Loki didn’t even turn around as he continued, “From here on, nothing that I do is. So just stay away!”

“What…?” Thor was too taken aback to continue for moment, but he continued hurling the words as Loki started walking again. “What did I ever do to you?”

 

* * *

 

A knock came from the door. Loki threw ice darts into the wall. How long was he going to keep this up?

“Go _away_ , Thor.”

The handle turned regardless and the door swung wide, but when Loki whipped his head to glare at the intruder he found that it was not his brother, but Frigga on whom he was fixing his cold stare. He dropped the expression immediately. “I thought…”

“I know what you thought,” Frigga smiled and closed the door behind her. “But your brother is currently off in another realm. If you left your room once in a while, you’d know that.”

Loki opened his mouth to retort, but could think of nothing good enough to say. He moved to his bed and sunk onto it, hiding his face in his hands. He felt the bed shift as his mother sat beside him. “I know it’s been difficult,” he heard her say, and soon felt her fingers sliding through his hair. It was enough to coax him into looking at her. “You’ve been doing so well.”

“No I haven’t,” he retorted, looking away again. “I… I can’t get upset without it happening.”

“I know, and that is why you can’t get upset,” Frigga paused. She hated coaching her son like this, despised having to tell him to turn his back on his true nature, when really it had always been Loki’s heart that had been his best quality. But she and Odin had agreed that it was the only way for him to control what had always been inevitable. “I truly think it’s for the best if you work on controlling your emotions. If you can control yourself, then you can control your powers. What do we say?”

Loki felt the disgust rising up in him, the hatred for having to exert so much energy just to exist, but he pushed them down deep where they could no longer touch him. “Conceal it,” the words came out like he’d said them a thousand times, “don’t feel it. Don’t let it show.”

The chill seemed to evaporate from the air. Frigga looked down at her son, pity shining behind her eyes. “That’s right. I brought you something.”

Loki found something being pushed into his hands. He pulled the soft black leather apart to reveal that it was a pair of…

“Gloves?”

“It might help,” Frigga said. She kissed the top of his head, then left him to his thoughts.

For a long time, Loki sat, staring at the gift. Then, slowly, he pulled them on. He watched his hands as he flexed his fingers. They looked normal, now that the strange blue-hue was hidden. Hesitantly, he reached out to the post of his bed. Ordinarily this amount of anxiety would have encrusted the entire pole in jagged ice… but nothing happened. He only felt the smooth wood beneath his gloved hand. For the briefest of moments he felt relief, but that soon faded when he realized what this meant.

If he wanted to lead a normal life, he could never take these off. And even then…

 

* * *

 

“Loki?” Thor had to blink his eyes in disbelief when he saw his brother striding confidently down the hallway towards the palace gates. Loki stopped and turned, back rigid, hands clenched, a passive expression painted on his face. Thor grinned regardless, closing the distance between them and pulling his brother into an embrace.

“Thor, please!” Loki protested, lightly shoving his older brother away. Thor only backed up a step, keeping a hand on Loki’s shoulder. He looked this familiar stranger up and down, taking in every subtle change that had manifested since he’d last properly seen him. Loki had grown taller even since then.

“It’s been far too long…”

“Oh don’t be so dramatic,” Loki muttered as he stepped away uncomfortably. “You see me all the time.”

“A fleeting glance…” Thor started to argue. Loki straightened his shirt and pushed back his hair, and it was then that Thor noticed the gloves that he was wearing.

“What is this, brother?” Thor asked, his tone almost teasing, “Expecting winter to come early?”

He swiped at Loki’s hand to try and get the glove away, but Loki stumbled back, eyes suddenly wide, clutching his hands close to himself. Both confusion and hurt found their way onto Thor’s face. Loki took a deep breath to compose himself, and straightened up a safe distance away from Thor. “ _Conceal…_ ” he whispered under his breath.

“What’s that?”

“Nothing! I’m sorry, Thor, I have to go…” Gathering his coat about himself and making sure that none of his skin was exposed, he made his hasty exit from the hall. He could feel the cold creeping up his arms. If Thor had touched him… Loki pushed the thoughts away. His mother had already told him the consequences that losing control would have.

Thor watched him go, that familiar sorrow stirring within him. The feeling of, once again, being left behind.

 

* * *

 

Winters came and went, and none of them affected Loki in the slightest. He reveled in the cold; he knew it all-too well. He was always sad to see the season go. When spring came, it brought with it warmth. It banished the frost and promised new beginnings. But it never thawed him.

The passing seasons did bring Loki one thing, and that was practice. He had long since become a master of self-control, an expert in shutting down outbursts and stifling any display of feeling. It brought some ease, some comfort; a tidbit of false hope that he could live a normal life. He found himself joining society more and more, slipping into place where Thor had always hoped that he might, but it was as a flat character. A minor role. A position that did not allow for leadership or gestures of emotion. He knew his place, and it was in the background, repressed. And he despised it. But it kept his secret safe.

It was, in this way, that time passed.

 

* * *

 

“That’s enough for today, I believe,” Frigga said, indicating that her training session with Loki had come to an end.

“Mother, don’t you think we should keep going? If Thor’s coronation is in less than a week’s time, I have to be prepared!” her son protested, pushing back the long dark hair that he had inherited from neither her nor her husband.

“Prepared for what, dear?” Frigga asked, the slightest bit of annoyance tinging her usual air of endless patience.

“What if someone-- or something-- tries to disrupt the ceremony? I need to be ready so that I can fight along with everyone else…” He tried to play it off as a sincere worry, but Frigga could sense that there was something more there.

“You are already a master of magic, what more have I to teach you? You are as ready as you will ever be within a week. Unless that is not what’s truly troubling you.”

Loki’s eyes darted away. “What else would be?”

She searched his face, and her mouth fell into a thin line of understanding. “It’s been so long, I think you’ve finally mastered control over it, don’t you?”

Loki shook his head, flexing his gloved hands. “I don’t know.”

She moved closer, placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “You worry for nothing, my son. You haven’t had an incident in years. I truly think that the worst is behind you.”

“Why?” His eyebrows lifted in almost mocking disbelief, and he took a step away from her, “Because I can shut myself down and keep quiet? Skirt along in Thor’s shadow, do as I’m told, and stay out of the way? What if I want more than that?”

“What are you talking about?”

He began pacing about the room, rubbing his face with his hand, “I have spent _years_ repressing any emotion for fear of manifesting this power, only to look up and find that everything moved on without me, mother, don’t you see? I look up to find that Thor has become arrogant and Father has grown old, and now Thor steps up to take the throne but he isn’t ready, and where was I? Where was I…?”

“Why, Loki, you were right there. You started spending more time with Thor, with others, and you were right there.”

A small, depreciating smirk twisted Loki’s lips. “No I wasn’t. Not really.”

Frigga’s jaw set. “And whose fault is that?” After a moment, she sighed, stringing her fingers together and looking at her hands. “I had no idea you felt this way.”

Loki looked at his mother for a long while before, finally, “That’s because you taught me not to feel.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for continuing to read my little story! Stay tuned for the next chapter, "Just Let Me In." I update every week or so.


	3. Just Let Me In

The entire palace seemed to shine even brighter that day, basking in the warm glow of the sun. It was a golden beacon that gleamed with bright hope for the future, much like the soon-to-be-king in the eyes of the Asgardians. Even the air seemed to buzz with a special energy. One person, however, appeared to be immune to it. He stood in an abandoned hallway behind a pillar, trying to convince himself that he wasn’t hiding. His green eyes shone in the afternoon light as he twisted his gloved hands together in anxiety and anticipation. He could not mess this up. Everything had to go exactly right, or the results would be catastrophic.

He was distracted from his thoughts by the heavy sound of feet striding down the hallway. He pulled his thin lips together, not even breathing, and retreated further into the shadows.

“Loki? I know you’re here,” an all-too familiar voice called out. Loki let out a sigh and turned to face the window. He sensed the presence over his shoulder before he even spoke. “You really need to find better hiding places. You’ve been using the same ones since we were children.”

“As far as you know, cousin,” Loki replied, his tone light, not turning to look at him.

Balder stood, leaning against the pillar at a safe distance, but close enough that it would not be easy for Loki to slip away. “Why _are_ you hiding?”

A small smile pulled Loki’s lips apart, “It seems a bit late to be asking that question, doesn’t it?”

Balder’s stoic expression hardened, “I have no time for your philosophical games. I am speaking of this moment. The coronation is starting soon, and you are the only one who isn’t there.”

“So you were sent to look for me?” Loki asked, finally turning.

“I volunteered,” his expression didn’t falter. When Loki did not respond, he added, “Thor wants you to be with him.”

They shared a long look, sizing each other up as Loki took his time to answer. Balder noticed him fiddling with his gloves. “I was preparing myself,” he finally responded.

Balder’s eyes narrowed imperceptibly. “For what? Are you backing out?”

“I needed some silence,” he replied, dodging the question, his eyes flicking back towards the window. “Everybody is so busy flitting about… I needed a moment to myself.”

Balder actually cracked a grin at that. “Because you haven’t had enough moments to yourself in your life?” Loki’s eyes were blazing when they met his. He did not falter. “I mean nothing by it, it is a simple truth. You will have plenty of time for reflection later. Now is the time for doing what we must.” Balder paused, and the silence was heavy. “Are you not happy for your brother?”

“Of course I am,” came his automatic response.

“Then let’s see a smile, little prince,” he teased. Being the largest in the family, and perhaps stronger even than Thor, Balder had always been the one out of all of them who had never been afraid to push Loki’s buttons.

That familiar anger burned up in his throat, that bitterness which bit his tongue, but he shoved it away just as he’d always done and brought a smile back to his face. He twisted his hands together. The tension did not escape Balder’s notice.

“There we are,” was all he said.

 

* * *

 

In his full, regal outfit-- complete with cape, armor, and winged helmet, polished and glowing like Asgard itself-- Thor looked every bit like the king he was about to become. Loki felt small and dull in his presence, like he was no more than a shadow on the wall, dark and fleeting. They stood together on the small balcony that shot off from the throne room, waiting for all of the guests to file in so that the ceremony could begin. Thor was allowed one companion to wait with before the coronation, and for reasons no one could discern, he’d chosen Loki.

Thor leaned with his hands against the railing of the balcony, surveying all that was about to become his. His typical grin was absent, replaced by a slight, contemplative frown. The metaphorical crown was not yet upon his head, yet he already felt its burden. No one had seen him like this; all the others had witnessed was his usual bravado as he awaited this day with his signature self-assured ease. Loki stood out of the sun a ways back, observing, as was his custom. He regarded Thor with guarded eyes, unsure what his estranged brother could want with him in this moment.

“I’m surprised you came,” was what eventually broke the silence. Thor’s tone was almost teasing, but he did not look back.

“As if I had much of a choice,” Loki returned the banter with ease and a sarcastic lilt. He took a few steps closer. “What troubles you, brother?”

Thor took his time in answering. His grip upon the railing tightened and he squinted against the afternoon sun. “It is a heavy burden,” he said vaguely, “with much responsibility.”

“Of course it is,” Loki did not miss a beat, “and that is why it has fallen to you. The Allfather would not have granted you this burden if he did not think that you could handle it.”

Thor did turn then, eyebrows lifted in slight surprise, a small smile just beginning to twist the corners of his mouth. “You think that? Truly?”

“Yes.” His face was his usual, passive mask. The fewer words Loki had to reply with, the less chance there was that he would betray himself.

Thor shook his head, casting his gaze away again. “Oh, brother,” he said, after a moment. He seemed to be talking more to himself than to Loki. “You have no idea what it is to be the firstborn. The pressure to be perfect, the amount of control it has over your life. All the while heading for a destiny you cannot escape. You could not know what it is to have such a weight upon you. It is a curse as much as a blessing.”

Pressure? Control? A _curse_? Loki looked down at his gloved hands and watched as they clenched into fists. “You have no idea…” he muttered, voice full of venom.

Thor did not hear him, and continued on. “That is why,” he once again looked at Loki, and the genuine warmth in his smile was like a punch to the stomach, “I feel I must apologize if I was ever cruel to or neglectful of you. It was never my intention. I know we have both been trying to please Father and fulfill our duties as princes of this Realm, even if it often took us in opposing directions.”

Loki could not quite comprehend what was happening. Thor was apologizing to him. After all that time playing his shadow, resenting his light, and _now_ Thor chose to make amends? It was too little, too late with what would shortly be underway. Still, Loki felt something like shame nagging on his conscience.

“No, brother,” he replied, “ _I_ am sorry.”

Thor waved the apology away. “You need not apologize.” He straightened up, throwing his shoulders back, newfound confidence rolling off of him. Composed, he stood to face his brother. “I am ready,” he declared.

“Good luck,” was all Loki could manage.

Far below them, ice was skirting along a dim, forgotten hallway in time with the heavy footfalls of giants.

 

* * *

 

Up until they were detected, the ceremony went off without a hitch. It seemed that all of Asgard had come to pay their respects to their new king and join the festivities. The gates had been flung open wide to welcome one and all, banners hung from every ceiling and railing, and guards stood sentinel in rows like statues with their gleaming armor. In the dining hall the feasts were already being laid out for the celebration that was to follow; mountains of food waiting under candlelight. The palace was alive with excited chatter, people craning their necks to get a glimpse of the heir. In the throne room everyone was in place; The Allfather seated upon the throne that he would soon retire, Thor’s closest relatives and friends lined up on either side. And then he was striding into the room to thunderous music and applause, Mjolnir held high. He grinned and thrust the weapon into the air, which only served to heighten the applause. Sif rolled her eyes. Thor knelt before the throne and gave his mother a cheeky wink, and she had to suppress the smile he drew from her.

It all should have been perfect.

But, swiftly advancing, the Frost Giants were stealthily making their way up towards the throne room, silently disposing of any guards that they met. They were going to give Asgard’s new king a reception of their own, now that they had an in. Finally, they would get recompense for the war all those years ago, and perhaps reclaim what had rightfully been theirs.

Odin was seconds from proclaiming Thor king when he sensed them. His words were cut off mid-sentence and something very different slipped out as he looked off at what no one else could see, “ _Frost Giants…_ ”

The very whisper of those words sent the room into a panic; civilians cowered away, guards drew their weapons, warriors lost no time moving into action. Thor was on his feet immediately, following his father who was already tearing off in the direction of the intruders. Frigga moved towards her younger son and drew him aside.

“I want you to hide, do you hear me?”

Loki’s eyebrows drew together, “What?”

“You heard me,” she whispered urgently, “I am your mother and your queen and you will respect me and do as I say, Loki. I want you to get out of here, go somewhere they will not find you.”

“You underestimate me!”

“No, I am keeping you safe...” Something in the way she trailed off made Loki think there was so much more that she was not telling him.

“What would Frost Giants want with me?”

She touched his face lightly. “Do as I say.” Then, turning away, “Lady Sif.”

Sif seemed to materialize beside them. Loki wondered if she’d been listening in. “Yes, my queen.”

“Make sure that my son stays out of the way.” She cast one last look at Loki, as though memorizing his face, then rushed off in the direction her husband had gone.

Frigga moved with purpose towards the weapons vault, a long knife held tight in her hand, hidden alongside her arm, her skirts billowing behind her. Surely her husband and elder son had caught the giants where they had been, but she knew what they were truly after. If it wasn’t Loki, then it was the source of their power that Odin had stolen from them. She was going to be sure to beat them there before they ever got the chance to get their hands on it.

She had been there long enough when the two remaining Frost Giants broke in. She stood, passive, beside the Casket of Ancient Winters, as though she had been patiently awaiting their arrival. They snarled, dangerous weapons of ice forming around their hands. The taller stepped forward.

“Step aside, or you die where you stand. The Casket is coming with us.”

Frigga simply smiled. “I’d like to see you try to take it.”

He charged and she spun, dodging his attack, flicking out her knife to slash at his arm. He paused, turned, swung his ice-encased hand at her. She ducked backwards then righted herself, blocking his next attack. They continued to fight until she strayed too close to the other who, seeing an opening, grabbed both her arms and twisted them behind her back. She only cried out briefly as his hands burned her arms where their sub-zero coldness bit into her flesh. The taller smiled smugly and turned to the Casket. He reached out to grab it… but his hand went right through. He tried a second time, then spun around in realization. It wasn’t there at all; it was only an illusion. She had been wasting their time.

“Witch!” he roared. Footsteps could be heard at the end of the hall. He advanced upon her. “Where is it? _Where have you hidden it?_ ”

It was the Queen of Asgard’s turn for a smug smile. “I will never tell you.”

“No,” the Frost Giant said. The other snapped her neck. “You won’t.”

The doors to the vault burst open and warriors poured in, Odin leading them. He went straight to the taller of the two, spearing him immediately as Thor slayed the other and bent to pull his mother into his arms. Ice crept from where the Frost Giants’ bodies had fallen. Odin turned, his whisper a defeated breath hissing from him, “Frigga…”

 

* * *

 

Loki’s door was bolted behind him, the handle and all the cracks around the door encased in ice. Everybody else was down at the funeral. There was no one to hear him scream.

And so he screamed. He yelled. He cried out in agony. He cursed everything, the universe, the gods, the Frost Giants, but mostly, ultimately, himself, until he was hoarse. He whipped up his own personal blizzard in his empty chambers until mirrors were shattered and their jagged shards lay indistinguishable from the ice that jutted up from the floor. The ice encased everything, it cracked his wooden bedframe and smashed the windows to let in the unseasonable wind that roared outside. The thick green curtains billowed in the chaotic storm until they grew too encased in frost to move anymore. And still Loki raged until there was nothing left within him... nothing… and he slumped against his door with bleeding feet and ice-blue hands and watched his breath make patterns in the cold.

 

* * *

 

Thor watched the flaming boat carry his mother’s remains to the very edge of the realm toward the falls, only to burst into stardust and ascend to the heavens. A warrior’s funeral, as was fitting. All around him glowing orbs too rose skyward from the hands of his people, a gesture of their communal grieving. They seemed, to Thor, stars trapped floating in the realm, out of place. He felt the same.

The coronation had never been completed, and, in light of the events, had been postponed indefinitely. This wasn’t what bothered him. It was that for the first time in his life, Thor felt utterly empty, completely unsure of what do next, or even who to turn to. His life had been falling perfectly into place, every small chip precisely where it needed to be, creating a complete and unbroken picture. Now, his entire reality was shattered.

There was only one person left that he truly wanted to see.

No one was around when he approached his brother’s door. Hardly anybody bothered to come by this part of the palace anymore. He, himself hadn’t been there in ages. Yet it all seemed oddly familiar, as was the twisting feeling in his chest. The pang of one too many doors closed off to him. He moved close to the door, lay a hand on it, and tried to feel the presence just beyond his reach. He knocked the door lightly, just as he used to.

“Brother?” his voice was thick. There was no answer, just as there never had been. “Please, I know you’re in there. People are asking after you. I…” he swallowed his pride and admitted, “I need you.”

At his brother’s muffled words, Loki folded in on himself, holding back the damned tears that he’d always been so awful at containing. Thor could take his pity somewhere else, Loki did not deserve it. It had been all his fault… _his_ … and Thor had no idea… It was all...

“Please…” Thor repeated, “I know it’s… I know.” He leaned his forehead against the cold, polished wood of the door. “They tell me to take heart, to have courage, but I don’t know how. Not like this. But, maybe together…?” He sighed heavily. “I do not know.”

Loki leaned back, his head resting against the door behind him. Still, he said nothing, but listened intently.

“I’m right out here for you, brother,” Thor’s voice sounded desperate. “Just let me in.”

Thor slid down until he, too, was seated leaning against the door; hard, uncaring wood separating him from his brother just as it had done for a majority of his life.

After a heavy silence Loki’s voice slid through the door, small and strained, “What are we going to do?”

To Thor it was a lifeline and he grabbed it and hung on for dear life. An idea occurred to him, one last try to drag Loki from the darkness that he was sinking into. Thor’s deep laugh carried to Loki through the door, lacking its usual exuberance and sincerity but carrying all of his warmth. His voice was tentative and joking, but it washed over Loki like the light of the sun that he hadn’t felt in what seemed like years. “Do you want to build a snowman?”

Loki’s sigh was half a laugh and half a sob as his head dipped. He looked down at his hands that were still tinged with blue from his ice-tantrum. Ice just like… blue just like… like… His heart plummeted to the ground in less time than it took for him to truly realize what he was thinking but no it couldn’t be… it couldn’t be… It was all his fault and that was bad enough there was no way… He was shaking, he couldn’t breathe, it couldn’t be, it COULDN’T BE…

“Loki?” He barely heard Thor’s voice through the blizzard that was descending upon his mind and heart. “Are you alright?”

“I… I’m…” but his voice broke off and he couldn’t answer. He could form only one coherent thought.

He needed to get into the weapon’s vault.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright so a quick note about Balder: I know he wasn't in the movies but I really wanted him for the purposes of this fic. In the comic books he is Thor's half brother, but given that I wanted to go with the movies as far as the family tree I've made him Thor's cousin. You'll see why he's here soon enough. 
> 
> Stay tuned for the next chapter, "The Cold Never Bothered Me Anyway." I update every week.


	4. The Cold Never Bothered Me Anyway

Loki could not believe the lack of security at the weapon’s vault, given what had transpired there. Two guards were all that stood watch. They allowed him to pass without a word, only sparing sympathetic glances. Loki had no use for sympathy. He needed answers.

The doors closed behind him with resounding finality as he descended the stairs that lead down into the vault. At the bottom something stopped him, as if he’d struck an invisible barrier. He stared down at the spot where she had died. He pictured how it must have happened, seeing it all play out before him. His mother’s last, selfless act for her people. Every detail had been relayed to him, whether he wanted it or not. He would never know the exact details firsthand. He had not been there. _He should have been there…_ He stepped lightly over the poisoned ground, moving once again with purposeful strides.

The original Casket had taken up its rightful place, although Frigga’s magic still lingered around the area. Loki’s practiced eyes could see it, like stars slowly flickering out. He trailed his fingers through the shimmering traces as he approached the raised platform upon which the Casket rested. There he stood as if at a precipice, removing his well-worn leather gloves with trembling hands and letting them flutter unceremoniously to the ground. The pounding of his heart in his ears drowned out everything as he lifted his bare hands to hover beside the handles of the Casket. Without his thinking about it, they moved on their own, gripping the handles and lifting the Casket from its platform.

He was far too acquainted with the cold of it; it felt like home in a way that nothing else had. He watched, horrified, as the sensation crept up his arms, just as it would when he lost control, but it did not stop there. It consumed him, and brought with it the blue hue that was reserved for his worst episodes. When at last it had settled over all of him, he knew that if he could only see himself he would not be looking at the facade he’d become accustomed to. It would be a familiar stranger looking back at him. That person you see in your dreams that you would _swear_ you’d seen before. His true form. He could not breathe, he could not think, he could not _believe..._

“Stop!” The voice that commanded him was moments too late. He had not heard Odin enter.

Loki set the casket down but did not release it. “Am I cursed?” he could not help but ask.

The silence hung heavy with years of lies. Finally, Odin managed, “No.”

“What am I?” Loki asked, but not for his own benefit. He already knew the answer.

Odin could only try to stave off the storm that he knew was about to come with an attempt at sentimentality. “You are my son.”

That was enough to make Loki release the Casket and turn, standing tall to face his “father” in all his glory, displaying himself to be what Odin had always known he was. Odin looked down at the Frost Giant before him-- at the son he had raised-- and watched as the blue receded and his spell once again took effect.

Loki’s voice was hard, “What more than that?”

For a long time they stood and stared at each other, the unbreachable distance between them gaping wider and wider with each passing second. Odin could think of nothing to reconcile the realities collapsing in his son’s mind, already far too weakened by age and the death of his wife. Loki was mentally grasping at straws, trying to think of some way to justify this kind of lie. All those years he’d thought that he was defective, that he was cursed, that he was guilty of something-- and it turned out that his powers had been an integral part of his being. That he was something else entirely. Everything he’d ever known had been a lie.

“You could have told me,” Loki choked out, his voice not quite matching the harsh defiance of his exterior . “You could have told me the truth from the beginning. Instead you wrapped me in a shroud of lies and shame! _Why?_ ”

“You are my son,” Odin repeated, taking a single step forward. “I wanted only to protect you.”

“From _what?_ ”

“From the truth.”

“Why? Because I-- I am the monster whom parents tell their children about at night?” Suddenly all of the warnings made sense. _Don’t let them in… Don’t let them see… You have no idea what would happen if anyone found out…_ He could not help the ice that began to form around his fists and for once he did not try. He advanced upon the Allfather, his rage avalanching, gaining momentum with each step. “That’s why you kept me hidden. That is why I was forced into the shadows! You were ashamed of me, you were afraid, and I was forced to repress myself because the Asgardians could never accept a _Jotun_ prince and if anybody found out…” He faltered in realization. Thor’s voice filled his head, swearing vengeance on the monsters that had slaughtered their-- _his_ \-- mother…

Odin had been backing away until, weak and completely overcome by all that had happened, he collapsed against the stairs. But Loki did not relent. Centuries worth of fear and rage were tumbling from his mouth as he advanced until he was practically standing over the old man, screaming. Odin had passed out before he was finished, and Loki was left staring down at him, with no words left. Slowly, Loki knelt down and reached out a hesitant hand, the ice melting away. When he touched his father’s hand, nothing happened.

He scrambled back to his abandoned gloves and shoved them on, panic quickly overtaking him. “Guards!” he yelled, “Please, help!”

The guards burst into the room, moving quickly to their fallen king.

“The place of Mother’s death… it was too much for him to bear…” Loki knew he was babbling but the guards bought his story and soon more were coming to carry the Allfather to his chambers.

Loki, however, was already gone. He was racing through the palace, deafened by his own thoughts-- they raged like a storm within him. He had only one clear idea in his mind, and that was that he had to get out of there. He could hear nothing else but the pounding of his own feet against the polished floors. Ice exploded from every place his boots collided with the ground and snow fell from seemingly nowhere. Throughout the kingdom, curious citizens looked around in wonder, watching their breath float in the air, drawing their clothes tighter about themselves against the unseasonable chill that had descended. Then the winds started. The currents howled and ripped through the air, blowing around buildings and bringing with it stinging sleet. People cowered, taking refuge in doorways and halls.

The last person he expected to run into when he burst out of the palace doors and into the courtyard was Thor, but there he stood, guiding panicked palace staff to places of safety. Thor’s blue eyes met startled green and he reached out to ask his brother what was going on. He grabbed Loki’s hand before he could escape and Loki’s head whipped around, hair flying wildly about his face.

“Brother, is it the Frost Giants?” Thor’s voice was hard and his jaw had that determined grit it always did when he was preparing for battle. Loki ripped his hand from Thor’s, but the glove remained caught in his grip. Loki clutched his exposed hand to his chest.

“Stay back, Thor!” Loki warned in a frantic voice as he attempted to retreat.

“Wait!” Thor cried, attempting to grab his brother’s cape.

“I said stay back!” came the strangled cry, and in his attempt to push Thor away ice flew from his fingertips, forming a serrated barrier between them. Thor stumbled back, eyes wide. Everyone around went silent, all eyes on the younger prince. Loki stared down at his hand, ice blue for the whole kingdom to see.

“He’s one of them!” someone yelled.

Loki’s eyes darted around like a cornered animal desperate for an escape route. They met Thor’s only briefly, and in that moment Thor saw all the terror that hid within them. He dashed around the ice barrier to call his brother back to him, but Loki turned and fled. People separated to make a path for him, too afraid to even go near. Thor followed along behind, through the gates and onto the Bifrost, but could not catch up. The ice that Loki so gracefully glided across slowed him down, and he only made it in time to watch his brother disappear through the ancient portal.

“Loki, wait!” Thor’s desperate voice called after him, but it was too late. Loki was already gone.

 

* * *

 

“Your people are in a panic, your father is incapacitated, and the weather is only getting worse, so please tell me, Thor Odinson, where in the name of Hel you think you are going!” Sif’s voice cracked out across the expanse of the now-abandoned courtyard as she briskly closed the distance between herself and the prince. She stopped only a short distance away, hands on her hips, stance firmly rooted, fully expecting an answer.

Thor only spared her a glance, then returned his attention to adjusting the saddle of the horse he’d brought from the stables. The animal pawed the ground nervously, unused to the amount of snow underfoot. Thor paused briefly to calm him, stroking his long, broad neck. “I’m going after my brother,” he finally answered.

Sif’s stance relaxed, if only by a fraction. “Thor…” she began. She reached out a hand, as if she might comfort him, then retracted it, laying it instead on her sword’s hilt where it hung at her hip. “I do not think that is wise. Your brother…” again, she trailed off.

Thor stiffened, and this time turned to face her, one hand still on the saddle. “Go ahead, Sif. Say it.” There was weight behind the words, almost a dare.

Undeterred, Sif lifted her chin to meet his eyes. “Loki is not your brother, Thor. We all saw that.”

“He is Jotun,” Thor said for her, “that is what you mean.”

“That is what I mean, yes.”

“It matters not,” he said resolutely, turning back and tying off the last knot with a sense of finality. “He was raised of Asgard, and he is my brother. Regardless…” Thor swallowed and cast his eyes back at Sif, “I cannot lose anyone else.”

Sif’s expression softened. The wind picked up, stirring the snow that had settled. The storm seemed to grow worse with each passing hour. Just when it seemed to be dying down, it would reach an even higher pitch. And no one had the slightest clue as to what should be done. But Thor had one idea.

“I am going to travel to Jotunheim,” Thor explained, though he seemed to be talking more to himself than to Sif. “I am going to bring Loki back and put an end to this.”

“Thor, this is madness,” she took a step forward, “Your people need you. You will be left in charge in light of what has happened-- who is to look after the good of Asgard if you leave? And who is to say whether or not Loki even wants to be found…”

“She is right,” a voice interrupted the conversation before Thor could even open his mouth to reply. They both turned their heads towards the palace gates, where a tall, broad figure was making their way down the steps.

“Balder!” Thor called once the figure came into focus through the swirling haze. His cousin strode towards them with his usual measured steps. His typically stoic expression did not soften as he regarded Thor; he merely squinted his eyes against the flurry. Thor looked him over. “What are you doing out here, cousin?”

“I came to find you,” Balder replied. “You have been summoned, Thor. It needs to be made official that you are the temporary ruler in your father’s absence from the throne.”

Sif gave Thor the hard look that she always used when she was right.

“A burden which I pass on to you,” Thor responded stiffly, without hesitation, turning back to mount his horse, “until I return. As you are next in line behind my brother and I, it only seems fitting.”

Balder inclined his head slightly, in a sort of bow. Sif looked between the two as though she couldn’t understand what had transpired.

“Thor,” she warned in a low voice.

“I accept the responsibility,” Balder said, gravely. “You have my word that I will guide Asgard until you return, and protect its people with my life.”

“I have no doubt of it,” Thor answered with a brief smile. “My mother always thought highly of you.” He dug his heels into the flanks of his horse, prodding it forward.

Sif turned to Balder, and met his eyes evenly. He did not falter for a moment. Her narrowed eyes conveyed her mistrust, but he either did not notice or did not care. She turned on her heel and jogged after Thor, clutching her winter furs tighter around herself.

“Thor wait!” she called.

“You will not change my mind, Sif!”

“You are not just going to march into Jotunheim without repercussions-- our truce with the Frost Giants is tentative at best!”

“I have no use for your warnings,” he turned to look down and offer her a cheeky smile, looking more like himself than he had since his botched coronation.

Sif rolled her eyes at him. “What I mean is,” she once more clutched the hilt of her sword and returned his grin with a determined one of her own, “you are not going alone!”

 

* * *

 

The snow shone in the permanent moonlight of Jotunheim, casting the whole realm in the blueish tone of night. Loki trudged from the cliff where the Bifrost had cast him with no clear destination in mind. This was the end of the line. It was a strange new sensation for him: to have nothing. Nowhere to go. But, at the same time, no one to answer to. Finally, he had what he wanted: a kingdom. At least he could rule over his own solitude. The howling wind ripped around the crumbling ruins that towered above him on every side. It tore through his thin Asgardian finery, but he felt nothing. The cold was his ally, and it had claimed him as its own.

It had all been for nothing-- that was what plagued him. He had tried his damndest, had done everything he was told. He’d kept quiet, kept out of sight, kept it all inside. He had fought against his true nature with everything he had, and it still hadn’t been enough. Even now he could hear those relentless voices taunting him as they had throughout his life: _No one can see… No one can know… Conceal… Don’t feel…_ the consequences… the fear… All that was over now. Everybody knew… _Well, so be it!_ Had he yelled that out loud?

He smiled in spite of himself. For the first time in his life, he had nothing left to lose. He looked down at his still-gloved hand with haughty contempt. He removed the glove and released it to the winds and laughed. There was no humor in it, but a strange liberation.

“Let it go,” he whispered.

He controlled his breathing and let his powers flow. A flash of ice from his fingertips and the years of repression were gone. A swirling vortex of snow released his fear. An oddly familiar snowman impaled with icicles shredded his insecurities. He shed ice like a second skin, for once not holding back. And Frigga was gone. And Thor was gone. And lonely days and sleepless nights and all the locked doors in the world-- GONE. Damn what they said about him back in Asgard! They could no longer affect him; he had nothing left to hide. It was astonishing even to him, how little he cared. The gaping distance between himself and his old life provided a new perspective, and with it Loki saw what an ignorant fool he’d been. He released his cape and let that, too, fly off. Then his coat. The cold could not harm him. He was its prodigal son, finally returning home. He straightened his back and clenched his hands, looking around with purpose. His eyes alit on some ruins clinging to the side of one of the rock formations that jutted up from the snow, and his grin grew wider.

“Time to have some fun…”

He centered himself in a way that he hadn’t since he was very young, fully utilizing the power within him. He stomped his foot and the ice flew from him, slick and perfect. He directed it upwards into an elegant staircase which grew as he ascended it. He finally felt like the god he’d been told that he was, creating in his own vision. Loki was in his element-- he did not control the ice, he was one with it, and they worked alongside each other. They did not stop once he reached the ruins; the ice crawled over every surface, making the forgotten structure gleam with a foreign beauty, making it new again. Another staircase led to the next level and he followed. Thick, intricately patterned ice patched the floor. Ornate chandeliers crawled from the ceiling, looking like they’d been carved from crystals. He stood in the center, breathing life into the construction, watching his soul become tangible before him.

For the first time in a very, very long time, Loki felt alive.

He looked around at what he’d created, adrenaline pounding through him, and he laughed again, the sound light and free. It danced in the form of ice crystals before him. Nothing could touch him now. If they wanted to make a villain of him back in Asgard, so be it. As far as he was concerned, he’d cut ties with his old life the moment he’d learned the truth. This was who he was, where he belonged, and he was never, ever going back. The past could stay the past.

The power of his triumph manifested in a swirling snowstorm all around him. He lifted his hands to see that his native blue had spread far from his fingertips. This time, he chose to let it happen-- to allow the cold seize him, to consume him, breaking Odin’s spell. He could feel it now as it was meant to be felt, as a part of him, and when he caught his reflection in the walls of ice he saw himself for what he was. Odin’s perfect son was gone, and in his place stood a fearsome and powerful creature. _Yes_ , this was who he was meant to be. The days of hiding were over; from here on he was going to live on his own terms. And in that moment, he finally felt justified. The storm could rage on for all he cared.

After all, Loki reflected smugly, striding to a window to survey his new domain, the cold had never bothered him anyway...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for continuing to read! Stay tuned for the next chapter, "No Escape From The Storm." As you know, I update once a week. 
> 
> If you wish to see an illustration I did of the "Let it Go" scene, you can find it here: http://xrozezxdisenchantedx.deviantart.com/art/Let-It-Go-424689063 :)


	5. No Escape From the Storm

“Now which way, Thor?” Sif had to raise her voice to be heard over the blizzard that perpetually tore through the wintery wastes of Jotunheim. She drew her arms closer to her body to preserve heat, tightening her cloak around her, peering through the dim moonlight warily.

Thor cast his eyes around, scanning the area. He knew that he was not widely considered the cleverest in the realm-- that title was usually reserved for his brother-- but he was a warrior, and as such he had an excellent sense of his surroundings at all times. He searched for any traces of footprints where his brother had gone before, but any that might have been there had long since been covered by the steadily falling snow.

“There is only one way _to_ go…” he muttered, and flicked a hand in the general direction of the only safe path that would lead them from the cliff they’d been cast upon.

Sif followed close behind as he set off the way he’d indicated. They treaded carefully across the snowy wasteland, laying footsteps delicately. The entire realm seemed to be falling into ruin around them, and it gave the impression that one wrong step might send the entire structure of the planet tumbling down. That, coupled with the eerie half-darkness and complete lack of other living creatures, heightened their disquiet. The only sounds were those of the crumbling structures echoing through the emptiness.

Sif cast glances in Thor’s direction, burning with things to say, but could not bring herself to open her mouth. She’d never had a problem before; it was notoriously known that if Sif had something to say to you, then you had no prayer of escape. But in this moment, with Thor having lost so much already, she had no idea how to tell him that even if they did manage to locate his brother, she did not think that he would like what he found.

“You know, Thor…” she finally managed after walking in silence for a ways, her voice barely loud enough to be heard, “most people that run off to other realms wish to be left alone.”

“Nobody wants to be alone,” Thor said decisively, quickening his pace.

She would not be so easily deterred. “Loki is the _prince_ of solitude. If he did not wish for your company back on Asgard, what makes you think that he desires it now?”

Thor’s jaw gritted, “Do I look to be in the mood for a jest, Sif?”

“I am being serious,” she said defiantly. “You know that I only look after your well-being. I...” She sighed sharply in frustration. “I am trying to help, Thor.”

“As I stated before, I have no use for your counsel, Sif. Only your cooperation in this matter. We are going to find my brother, and that is the end of the discussion.” He looked away.

Sif exhaled impatiently. She was used to Thor brushing off her advice, but it had never irritated her more than in this moment. “I suppose hurling ice at you and leaving Asgard in an eternal winter wasn’t enough of a hint…” she muttered.

Thor ignored her. He had no use for any warnings regarding his brother. It wasn’t a question of whether or not Loki wished to be found, or what might transpire when he did find him. What mattered was that Thor would _not_ allow his younger brother to succumb to darkness. Too many times had Thor watched Loki from a distance, stood outside of his closed doors, and glimpsed the winding path that he was heading down. He just hadn’t had the strength of will to pull him back. He could not shake the feeling that if only _once_ he had tried harder to reach out, made more of an effort to connect, then they would not be in this situation. But with every passing year the gap between them grew until it seemed far too wide to even consider bridging. Still, he chastised himself, he should have tried. There were a million occasions upon which he could have tried. But he did not. And now, consequences be damned, he would have to fix what he’d helped to break.

They knew that they were on the right path when they reached the first of the strange ice formations that jutted from the ground, so much like the ones that would randomly spring up around the palace in their childhood. Loki’s signature was all over the structures. Thor slowed, pausing to inspect one more carefully, pensively trailing fingers across it as he walked. He tried to imagine their construction-- Loki finally letting loose what he’d kept contained for so long. Sif eyed the various ice sculptures, if one could call them that, warily as they passed. When they reached the familiar snowman, half collapsed and skewered with icicles, there could be no mistaking it. In his mind, Thor clearly saw it as it had been the last time, how he and his brother had laughed together. It seemed lifetimes away.

“Be on guard,” he advised Sif, though it was unnecessary. Her hand had hardly left her sword’s hilt since they’d arrived in Jotunheim.

They followed the formations, rounded the section of the ruins that towered around them, and saw the glorious crystalline staircase that swept up to the large section of the ruins that were encased in ice. Sif’s jaw tightened, and Thor had to catch himself from gasping aloud.

“So,” Sif said, her voice heavy with irony, “do you suppose that’s it?”

They approached the grand stairway slowly. Stopping just short of ascending, Thor paused to test the railing. It was not quite as cold to the touch as he’d expected, and seemed to be sturdier than any ice sculpture he’d ever encountered before. He’d just resigned himself and prepared to place a hesitant foot upon the first step, when Sif’s voice stopped him.

“Thor, wait!”

He turned to her, the question evident on his face. She was not looking at him, however. Her eyes traced the stairway up to the towering, elaborate door that waited at the top.

“I truly do not think that we should be here,” her eyes returned to him, and he saw they were full of fear. No, not fear-- concern. His expression softened.

“You worry for nothing, Sif. My brother would never hurt me. All the same,” he reached out and placed a gentle hand alongside her neck. “Perhaps you should wait here.”

“I will not allow you to go in there alone! Who knows what awaits you…”

“I am sure it is nothing that I cannot handle myself. And, as you said, I am not sure that Loki will be too pleased to see anyone. It would be best if I speak with him myself.”

She held his eyes for a long moment, testing him to reveal the truth. If he was worried about what he would find, he did not show it. He met her gaze with that signature warmth that only he could give. She’d always felt it inappropriate that he was associated with thunder when he’d always been a brilliant sun, emitting rays of positive energy, even in a cold, dark place such as this. Finally, Sif backed down, flicking her eyes away.

“Whatever you wish,” she said.

Thor granted her one last smile before beginning the trek up to the frozen palace that loomed above them. He gripped the railing tightly on either side, struggling to maintain his footing on the slick surface of the ice. His sheer determination to rescue his brother kept him moving upwards. When at last the stairs leveled out, he approached the ornate glacial doors that towered before him. He hesitated, suddenly feeling very much like the young boy who had stood outside of his brother’s door, desperately pleading for entrance. He steeled himself and knocked roughly, once-- twice-- three times, then stood back and waited. There was a rumble from somewhere deep inside the castle-- and the doors slowly opened. Thor looked on in shock.

“Well,” he said to himself, straightening his back and regaining his composure. “That’s a first.”

 

* * *

 

Back in Asgard, under the supervision of Balder, the royal guards and servants were working to provide the citizens with the supplies necessary to take refuge from the storm, but they seemed to be quickly running out of provisions. The Realm Eternal was not used to harsh winters, and structures and citizens alike were not equipped to handle temperatures well below freezing. If the temperature continued to drop at the rate it was going, they didn’t stand a chance.

All of this weighed heavily enough on Balder’s mind, even before he heard the news that Thor had disappeared from Heimdall’s sight.

He called a conference of Asgard’s highest ranked advisors and warriors, and met with them in secret.

“Thor has gone missing,” he let the words descend upon the gathered members, and watched the meaning sink in on them. “Heimdall has lost sight of him and Lady Sif in Jotunheim.”

A somber silence met his words. A silence that understood.

“But if Thor cannot get Loki to reverse what he’s done--” Fandral started, voicing what no one else would.

“We will all freeze to death,” Hogun finished grimly.

Balder’s jaw clenched as he stared down at the table, apparently lost in thought. After a moment, he nodded decidedly and looked up to address the gathered group. “We must return Prince Thor to his throne at all costs.”

“And what of Prince Loki?” asked one of the advisors.

Balder considered this, and shook his head. “Thor had his chance, but now we have no choice but to act. We shall have to capture the prince if he will not return quietly. We must reverse this storm. And if any harm has come to Thor by his hand, then Loki will have committed treason.”

All assembled felt the weight of his words. Balder stood.

“I will need a select group to travel with me to Jotunheim,” he continued.

Fandral immediately stood and clapped Volstagg and Hogun on the shoulder. “If our kingdom or our friends are in trouble, the Warriors Three will always answer the call.”

“Good,” Balder answered, already sweeping from the room with confident strides. “We leave immediately.”

 

* * *

 

The breath was nearly knocked out of Thor’s body at the sight of the palace’s interior. He strode in, looking all about himself, drinking in every detail. The space was wide and open-- even inviting if that were possible. It seemed strangely bright, despite the dusk-like darkness outside, almost as though the ice contained its own light. A sculpture resembling a fountain whose waters froze while flowing stood near another set of stairs that arose from either side of the entranceway to meet in the middle and continue upwards to the next level. Complicated designs and runes were etched onto the walls and up to the lofty ceiling. He’d had no idea what Loki was capable of, and could not help the rush of pride he felt as he took in his surroundings.

“Who goes there?” The voice crashed against the icy walls, venomous and sharp. Thor’s grip on Mjolnir’s handle tightened automatically, but relaxed again as he recognized his brother’s voice. Loki had been distant, and sometimes even cold, but there was no way in Thor’s mind that he would ever do anything to harm him.

“It is I, brother!” he called, and even before he turned the corner Loki could hear the smile in his voice. That damned optimistic grin. His foolish brother…

“You would have done better to leave me in peace…”

Thor opened his mouth to retort but whatever he’d been planning to say was lost in his throat when Loki revealed himself, descending the stairs only halfway and then stopping. It was the first time Thor truly saw him for what he was. Loki stood at his full height, chin lifted, looking entirely regal and commanding. The meek little brother was gone, and before him stood someone entirely different. Someone he would give anything to know.

Thor finally found his voice again, “That would not have been possible.”

Loki practically rolled his eyes and turned as though to climb the stairs once more and leave Thor standing in the frozen entryway.

“Wait!” Thor called after him, but was ignored. “I saw the snowman!”

Loki froze.

But instead of becoming angry, Thor laughed. “Do you remember how you would make that when we were children? And the ice for skating? You always said that--”

“If Father knew, we’d be in so much trouble,” Loki finished, without turning to face him.

“And yet, you did it.”

Loki swallowed, and trailed his fingers along the railing of the stairway. “It made you happy.”

Thor felt that he was finally gaining footing on the ice. “We used to have fun together, don’t you remember? With your gifts… we could be like that again...”

Loki closed his eyes and it played out before him: the nights when they would sneak away where the usual watchful eyes could no longer plague them. Finally alone, free to be brothers rather than princes, with Loki free to let loose the powers that he had to otherwise keep contained. The ice flowing elegantly, the snow flurrying, his brother’s laughter in the air, the two of them skating across the slick surface, then an unfair trip, a kick, an accident, and Thor sliding, sliding, hands frantically grabbing hands, over the edge, Odin’s booming voice, the fear--

Loki gripped the railing, sending spikes of ice down its length. “You should leave,” he hissed over his shoulder. “Jotunheim is not a safe place for a prince of Asgard.” He began climbing the stairs without a backward glance.

“Which is exactly why we should leave this place, together!” Thor chased after him, trying his best to keep his balance on the treacherous stairway. Why was it that every time he thought he was gaining ground, Loki shut him out? “Why do you hide from me?”

“I do not hide from you,” his brother was already out of sight, but his echoing voice was all around; it seemed to come from the ice itself, “This is my domain. You should be the one hiding, _Odinson.”_

Thor gritted his teeth. “I am not afraid of you, Loki!”

“Then you are a greater fool than I took you for.”

Thor emerged from the stairwell onto a floor even more glorious than the entrance. The thin light that made its way into the room danced from one surface to the next, and every color of the Bifrost seemed to hide within the ice. Frost traced intricate designs onto every surface. Thor was so distracted that at first he did not notice Loki standing by the wall in a nearly defensive position, red eyes tracking Thor’s every move.

“You were sent after me, were you not?” Loki continued, tensed and ready, “To drag me back so that they could lock me away until Odin found use for me?”

At first Thor was struck with disbelief at the obvious mistrust and edge to his brother’s voice, and then he registered the words. “I did not come here to fight or imprison you.”

Loki searched Thor’s face intently, but could find no trace of a lie. “Then why are you here?”

“To bring you home!”

Loki straightened, his face falling into its practiced passive facade. “I am home.”

“That is ridiculous!” Thor said, his smile back, and he advanced towards Loki as though meaning to put a comforting hand on his shoulder. Loki backed away immediately before recollecting himself and striding towards the large window. Thor did not stop, however. “I understand, Loki. I know that we have been lied to. I know that you were forced to hide your true self. But don’t you see? You need not hide any longer. I know now, I can help you! We can go back home, together! We can work this out brother, I am sure of it…”

“Thor,” Loki interrupted, his voice sharp. “Please. Things can never be as they were. The Asgardians will never accept my true heritage, why do you think that Mother--” he caught himself, swallowed, and continued on, “that Frigga and Odin hid me away?”

“Everything that Father does is for a purpose,” Thor said confidently, moving toward Loki again, “If you return he will awaken and he can recast his spell upon your appearance. In time, our people _will_ trust you again, as long as you earn that trust back.”

“As long as I go back to hiding in the shadows…”

“I’m sorry?”

Loki pivoted around, “That is your brilliant plan, is it not? That I put the gloves back on and come home, obedient-- shove myself back into that box and make myself small once more so that you can be Asgard’s grand king!”

Thor couldn’t understand the malice in his voice, “Well, yes…”

Loki practically snarled as he shoved past Thor and began pacing the room, “I cannot believe you. You would have me turn my back on my culture so that I can return with you to be your _pet…”_

“I would have you at my right hand, as my brother!”

“And it is a most gracious offer, _brother…”_ There it was again, that malice, that _disdain_. Loki turned to face him directly, “But if it isn’t too inconvenient I shall have to decline. I trust you remember where the door is?”

“Of course I do!” Thor replied shortly, his temper getting the better of him, “I should by now. This is yet another lock that you can bolt between us-- after all, you have always so loved to slam doors in my face!”

There was an ominous crack of breaking ice as Loki’s eyes flashed. “And who put me behind those doors?” Loki could not help himself, “ _Who put me there?”_

“You know _damn well_ , Loki!” Thor was yelling now, advancing upon him, “You know damn well that you brought it on yourself! I’ve seen that fear, I saw it in your eyes any time I came near you. What are you so _afraid_ of?”

An even louder crack split the air, and Loki had to control his breathing, exhaling swirling frost and flexing his hands to shake the ice from them. “You should leave,” his voice was smaller, but no less commanding. He looked away. “It’s not-- you’re not safe here…”

Thor’s eyes hardened and he turned, but stopped himself. “We are not safe in Asgard, either.”

“What--” When Thor looked back at Loki he saw that familiar fear creeping back into his brother’s eyes. Loki’s voice was cautious. “What are you talking about?”

“Your storm,” Thor said, “the violent winter that you created as you fled. It has been getting progressively worse. Asgard is slowly freezing. I came here to bring you home, so that you could fix it.”

“Fix it?”

“I know you can, brother,” Thor’s voice softened as he latched onto the glimmer of his younger brother that seemed to be showing through. “We can head back together and reverse the storm.”

Loki, however, was backing away, horror seeping into his expression. Light snow began to fall from the ceiling as the temperature in the room steadily dropped. “No we can’t,” Loki’s voice was thin, “I don’t know how. I never learned to control it--”

“But look at what you’ve made!” Thor indicated the palace around them. “And you say that you cannot control it?”

“This?” Loki trailed his fingers along the wall, absently, “This is different. This was the product of liberation. The opposite of control...”

“Loki--”

“Thor, please!” He was backing away again. The snow fell harder. “I can’t...”

“You underestimate yourself…”

“I should have known,” Loki spoke to himself. The snowfall became a blizzard in time with his panicked pacing. First the Frost Giants, and now this? He knew that he had earned everything he’d brought upon himself for what he’d done. He deserved his isolation. And he now wasn’t even going to be granted that. The very powers that he had finally embraced would be his downfall after all. “Oh, I’m such a _fool_ … I can’t be free…”

Thor did not understand his brother’s panic, “You need not be afraid...”

“There is no escape… no escape from this storm-- this _curse!”_ Loki cried, running his fingers through his hair.

“We can make this right,” Thor held up his hands reassuringly.

Ice crystals crept along Loki’s hands as he stared down at them, “I can’t control it…”

“We will figure out how to reverse the storm…” Thor moved closer, “Don’t panic.”

Loki shoved his eyes shut, tried to regulate his breathing, but the blizzard within the room only intensified. He could not bear to have Thor attempting to comfort him. “Brother, please, you’ll only make it worse!”

“We will work this out,” Thor persisted, coming up behind him.

“You are not safe near me,” Loki cried desperately.

“We can fix this together, brother--” Thor reached out.

“No we CAN’T!” Loki snapped, turning and grabbing a hold of his brother’s arm to stop him. For the briefest of moments Loki’s wild eyes met Thor’s, but Thor cried out and Loki released him, stumbling back. His eyes darted between the sight of Thor’s burnt arm and his own hand, self-revulsion rising up within him as the storm dropped listlessly and ceased.

Thor was still staring down at his blackened arm as though surprised by the pain of it when Sif broke down the ice-barrier that had formed between the room and the stairwell, and came to stand beside him. She had been waiting outside as instructed, when she’d heard the sound of cracking ice and could no longer stay idle. Her eyes met Loki’s and her hand immediately went to her sword, but Thor threw out his good arm to stop her.

“I’m fine,” he said, although the grit of his teeth said otherwise.

Loki straightened up, swallowing, and when he spoke his voice was steady. “You need to leave.”

“Brother--” Thor started to protest.

“Leave now,” Loki’s voice cut across his words, cold and firm, “while I still allow it.”

Thor could only stare in disbelief as his brother shut himself off to him with nothing but his body language and an icy stare. It was as though that door once again stood between them, bolted from the inside, immovable and uncaring.

Thor’s jaw clenched, and his voice was defiant, “I will not leave without you!”

“ _Yes_ ,” Loki said harshly, his fists clenching. In time with the movement, an even louder crack could be heard down below. Then the shattering of ice. Then the bellow of a beast. “You will.”

Sif grabbed Thor’s good arm insistently. “Thor, we must go.”

Thor’s eyes never left Loki’s as he allowed himself to be pulled from the room.

With Thor gone, all light seemed to be sucked from the room. The ice that moments before had sheltered him now seemed cold and lifeless. Loki backed into a corner, feeling that familiar chill descend upon his heart. His defiance shriveled and became defeat. His liberation had turned to exile. And with every passing second, the magnificent home that he’d constructed for himself was morphing into yet another prison. Loki curled in on himself as he realized that he’d driven the very last person who cared about him away.

His last hope of redemption was gone, and there was nothing left but the storm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternately titled "Oh, Look At That, I've Been Impaled" because of the feelings that writing this chapter gave me.
> 
> Thanks to all of you still reading for sticking with me and this story! It means a lot that people are enjoying it. Stay tuned for the next chapter, "I Am The Hero." I update every week.
> 
> EDIT: I got back to school over the last week and things have been kind of hectic, so the next update is going to be late. Apologies in advance!


	6. A Force That's Powerful and Strange

The eerie silence of Jotunheim was broken only by the bellow of a beast and frantic footfalls as Thor and Sif crashed through the snow. The monster had been unleashed from its ice confines by Loki’s rage, and was in hot pursuit of the two intruders.

Thor could feel his pulse pounding in his ears, the normal adrenaline of battle missing, masked by the searing pain in his left arm. It was not like an ordinary frost-burn injury; there was a piercing coldness that seemed to reach straight to his bones. At Loki’s grip, his armor had fallen away, leaving him exposed to the searing bite of the Jotun’s skin. _He hadn’t meant to_ , Thor reminded himself, _Loki had never intended to hurt him_ …

The beast sounded again, and this time it was much closer. Sif turned over her shoulder to see Thor trailing behind, and her eyebrows drew together. He didn’t seem himself; he was wavering, unable to keep up, and looking very much like he was about to pass out. With a determined glint in her eye she held out a hand, which Thor accepted with his good one, and with the added help of her strength dragging him, he sped up.

Sif barely had a moment before she realized that they had been run off course. The icy ground below them dropped off suddenly, and she stopped just short of sprinting over the edge of a crumbling cliff, using the hand gripping Thor’s to stop him too, although their added momentum almost threw them over. They turned, and saw the monstrous form of the Jotun creature charging them. Without wasting a moment Sif drew her sword and fell into her battle stance, feet firmly rooted, shield in place, prepared for the monster to do its worst. Beside her, Thor began winding up Mjolnir, wincing as the pain in his other arm spread. Still the beast pummeled forward at full speed. Sif expected Thor, as was his custom, to charge right back at it, knocking it easily aside with the might of Mjolnir. She was more than surprised to instead find Thor’s arm wrapping around her, the ground leaving her feet at just the last second as Thor leapt into the sky, propelled by the hammer. She watched as, below, the monster fell— hopefully— to it’s death.

The two landed safely upon the very cliff where they’d first arrived in Jotunheim. Thor swayed slightly as Sif shoved herself away from him, sheathed her weapon, and pushed the stray hairs from her face.

“You know I hate flying,” she managed after she caught her breath, casting Thor a strange look, her eyes tinged with something like worry. There was a brief pause, then, “How unlike you.”

“I’m sorry?”

“You reacted defensively, instead of attacking it head-on.”

Thor flexed his blackened hand. “It worked, did it not?”

Sif straightened, looking around to be sure that the danger had passed. There was a brief moment of silence before she looked back at Thor. “Now what?”

“Now what?” Thor repeated distractedly, subconsciously rubbing his injured arm. Realization blossomed on his face as Sif’s meaning broke over him. “ _Now what_ … Oh gods. Loki won’t return… we cannot go back to Asgard without him—!” His sentence was cut off as he winced, glancing down at his blackened skin.

Sif opened her mouth to retort but her response quickly died in her throat as she followed Thor’s gaze down to his injured arm. She moved to him, careful not to actually touch and potentially hurt him, and inspected it more carefully. Her mouth fell into a grim line. Thor watched her fuss over him in ironic amusement.

“Something the matter, Sif?”

“It is spreading,” she said, “look.”

He did, and noticed that she was correct. The blackness had traveled further up his arm, and brought that searing cold with it. He frowned. “Does it look bad?”

She straightened, trying to train her features into something sincere. “... No.”

He met her eyes. “You hesitated.”

“No I didn’t…” He raised his eyebrows at her, but she fixed him with a hard stare. “We must return and get you help.”

Thor made as though to wave away her comment, but was attacked by a sudden wave of light-headed disorientation. Before he could lose his footing Sif caught and righted him, holding to his shoulders and yelling, “Heimdall!”

Before Thor could protest, the sky opened up and they were swallowed whole by light.

 

* * *

 

Back in his palace, Loki paced the floor, dragging fingers roughly through his hair and attempting to block out the creaking sound of the spreading ice. He bit his lips until he could taste blood, screwed his eyes shut tight, trying desperately to force the hatred and guilt and fear down the way he always had, to lock it away where it couldn't harm anyone, but there was too much… it overcame him, overwhelmed him…

“Compose yourself,” he whispered in a broken voice, “control it!”

He saw Frigga presenting him with the gloves that would help him hide, heard her words of counsel: ‘ _Conceal it_ …'

“Don’t feel,” he whispered. The light that seemed to glow from the ice was being replaced by a terrible darkness.

He saw Frigga consoling him after he’d lost control and faced Odin’s rage for it.

“Don’t feel…”

He saw her _dead_ , her empty shell of a body being carried past once Sif had let him through.

“ _Don’t feel_ …”

A terrible cracking sound caused him to look up, and he saw the ice manifesting into menacing spears on every surface, pointing like accusing fingers toward him. He drew himself inward, eyes casting around, the horrifying truth constricting like a vice around his heart.

He had nowhere left to hide.

 

* * *

 

Heimdall stood back to make room for Sif and Thor as they found their footing on the floor of the Observatory, then moved to them immediately. His all-seeing eyes did not miss the way Thor leaned against Sif for support, nor did they miss Thor’s injury. These things were not at the forefront of his mind, however.

“I turned my gaze to you in Jotunheim and could neither see nor hear you,” he stated. Nothing troubled the gatekeeper more than being unable to utilize the gifts that he so heavily relied on.

“We found Loki,” Sif explained. “He hid himself from you, and I suppose us along with him. Thor confronted him, but...” her voice trailed off and Heimdall took her cue to move to Thor, who attempted to stand up straighter. The gatekeeper took his arm in surprisingly gentle hands, and observed it carefully, his mouth settling into a grim line.

“This… does not bode well,” Heimdall said solemnly, gold-eyes full of all that he was not saying.

Sif’s searching eyes prodded him for more information, which he seemed reluctant to give. “What do you mean?” she finally asked.

The gatekeeper sighed. “Thor has been cursed,” he said slowly, “This is ancient Jotun magic. If left unchecked these burns will continue to spread. If the frost reaches the heart…” he raised his eyes, and Thor met his gaze evenly with that patient assurance of his. Heimdall found the strength to continue, “You _will_ die.”

Sif’s, bit back her gasp of horror, eyes flying to Thor, wide and wild with worry. Thor simply looked grim, jaw set.

“Who can reverse it?” he asked, before Sif could urge he be taken to the Healing Room. Part of him already knew the answer even before he saw the sadness in Heimdall’s eyes.

“Only the one who caused it.”

“Loki…” the name trailed off his tongue and fell flat. “But we have left him in Jotunheim. He would not return…”

Heimdall nodded grimly. “Lord Balder has gone to capture the prince, and with his warriors he is likely to succeed where you were not. I suggest you go to the palace, and await his return."

“But how is Loki to reverse this when he does not even know how to reverse the storm?” Sif asked.

“There is only one force in all the Realms powerful enough to reverse this magic,” Heimdall spoke in his usual cryptic fashion, “and it is indeed a force both powerful and strange. The only force strong enough to thaw a frozen heart.”

“And it is…?”

“Something Prince Loki must discover for himself.”

Sif exhaled impatiently, “Of course…”

 

* * *

 

Followed by his small force that consisted of the Warriors Three and a select few of the palace guards, Balder trudged through the snow of Jotunheim. One arm shielded his eyes from the fierce winds that whipped frost through the air, the other held a sword at the ready. In time, they came across strange ice structures, and then found themselves before the sweeping staircase that led up to the fantastic palace of ice. His grip on the sword tightened as he glared up at it.

Loki was still pacing the floor in the upper level when he heard the resonating crack and crash of the main door being broken down. His red eyes flashed as his hands clenched into frost-coated fists, even as his breath left him. One thought quickly flooded his mind: Thor had failed, and now Asgard was resorting to more drastic measures. He would be brought back to the Realm Eternal, tried for his crimes, for his treason, and then—

He bared his teeth. “Let them try...”

He did not have to wait long for the guard to scramble up the slick staircase. The first few were easy enough to defend himself against, a few flashes of Jotun magic and they were assailed with icicles, struck up against the walls. But Loki could not help but falter at the sight of his brother's friends. Of his— could he call them friends? If any of them had ever felt comradeship for him, it was absent from their faces now, all eyes were hard as they took in his monstrous appearance. Loki held up his hands defensively, ready for their attack.

Fandral was the first to step forward. “Loki. Where is Thor?”

Panic briefly flickered through his chest— had his brother not yet returned?— but he shut it back down. Thor was no longer his concern. None of them were. His narrowed eyes spoke volumes as he tried for his classic smirk.

“I was not aware that I was my brother’s keeper. Asgard is losing princes left and right, I see.”

Fandral's eyes were tight and his hand twitched on his sword's hilt, but before he could say anything else Balder emerged from the stairway. His eyes met with Loki's for only a moment. Something hard and cold glinted in Balder's eyes as something like realization dawned in Loki's— and then Balder was advancing, the Warriors three following his lead and spreading out, weapons drawn.

Loki was cornered and he knew it. Ordinarily, he would have a trick up his sleeve. Some clever escape, planned out like a masterful chess game one piece at a time. But he'd all but lost his path after what had happened with the Frost Giants at Thor's coronation. His world had crumbled around him, and with it went any semblance of control. For the first time in a long time he felt genuinely unsure— genuinely afraid.

“Stay back!” he warned, taking one resolute step away. His foot slammed against the floor, and as it did a long crack appeared in the ice below his boot, splitting the room with its sound. He pulled in a strangled gasp, watching the crack travel up the walls and to the ceiling, raised his arms defensively as shards of ice came tumbling down and shattered against the ground. Volstagg barely managed enough time to shout a warning before the ceiling caved down upon them. Loki stumbled back, only managing a gasp of shock and a flash of regret before the world went black.

* * *

 

Back in the palace, Odin slept on, his body bundled in furs to protect from the ever-dropping temperature. The single tear that escaped his good eye was frozen before it reached his jawline.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And lo! nearly a year later the missing chapter doth appear. It's not much, but there was no way I was going to entirely abandon this fic after all the work I put into it. I will try to wrap this up in the next chapter, but if I can't condense it enough there may end up being eight chapters. 
> 
> If you waited this long, then bless you. I will try not to disappoint with the ending.


End file.
